


Where the Sun is Always Shining

by Pervymonk



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pervymonk/pseuds/Pervymonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching the wasteland for her father, the Lone Wanderer finds herself instead. A Charon/Female Lone Wanderer romance</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Blindness

The first thing that comes over her when she flees the vault is a searing blindness. She pushes herself through that flimsy wooden door that no one dared to follow her through, and then she runs right into nothingness.

She is terrified. 

Her thoughts are a jumbled mess. Oh God, the Overseer was right. There isn’t anything here. Nothing survived outside of the Vault. _It is here you are born, it is here you will die._

_It is here you will die._

She falls, and she feels like she will fall forever. Something hard hits her knees, and her hands fly out in front of her wildly to grasp it. She feels something grainy and non-permanent between her fingers. Slowly, the world around her comes into focus. Sloping, jagged hills fill her vision. She stares into an endless sea of brown. She squints, trying to discern if anything lives in this new form of nothingness. She shakily pushes herself up, brushing off her knees, and wiping tears from her eyes. 

“God damn it, Dad.” 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Good morning, madam!” an unusually chipper, mechanical voice greets. She groans, and rolls over in her bed. 

“Hey Wadsworth,” she mumbles. After a few moments, the robot asks, 

“Are you going to get up, madam?”

“In a minute,” she says. After the promised minute has passed, she sits up, and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. 

“How may I serve you, madam?” 

“Purified water. All you can make. I’m going out today,” she says with a conviction she doesn’t feel. 

“Certainly, madam!” Wadsworth chirps. As he processes the condensation to make the water, she stands up to ready herself. 

Two months. She has been here two goddamn months, and the closest she had gotten to finding her father were the cryptic words, “Go to GNR.” Yeah, GNR. 

In super mutant infested D.C. 

She came across a super mutant once, and had run her ass back to Megaton as fast as her privileged, Vault-dweller legs could carry her. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she was simply stalling. She was stalling because she was scared. Fucking terrified, if she wasn’t in the mood to mince words. She was frightened of every damn thing in the Wastes, from molerats and radscorpions to mirelurks and super mutants. This world brought her to her knees when she first fled the vault, and she isn’t sure she ever got back up. 

She rummages through her filing cabinet, pulling out some leather armor. She shrugs into it and holsters her weapons. Shotgun on her back, pistol on her hip, knife in her boot. She walks down the steps of her derelict house, and sighs. She grabs a pair of sunglasses from the lockers, idly wondering if she’ll need them today. Wadsworth greets her at the door. 

“Here you are,” he says, depositing five bottles of water into her outstretched hands. She grumbles her thanks, grabbing her pack from beside the door, and leaves. She inhales sharply as the sunlight hits her eyes. She could have never imagined anything as bright as the sun back in the vault. 

She makes her way to Moriarty’s to say goodbye to Gob and Nova. Jericho shoves past her before she can reach the door handle. 

“Get lost, kid,” he says, his breath smelling like whiskey. She stares him down for an intense second before he mutters a curse and stalks off. She lets out a relieved sigh as she slumps against the door. She thought Jericho was an asshole, but she was still terrified of him. After steadying herself, she pushes the door open. Gob shoots her a weary smile as he continues to wipe off drinking glasses. 

“Mornin’, Sunshine,” he greets. She involuntarily winces, still unused to another voice calling her by the nickname her father used. Uses, she corrects herself firmly. She plasters on a smile. 

“Hey, Gob! Rough night?” He shrugs.

“No rougher than usual,” he answers. She decides not to notice the stiffness of his posture, or the tightness of his voice. 

“Where’s Nova?” she asks. He casts his eyes downward.

“Still asleep,” he answers softly. “She had a busy night.” Sunshine feels like kicking herself. 

“Well then,” she says awkwardly.

“Yeah, how about that,” Gob grumbles. She swallows, trying to wet her dry throat. Gob sets his glass down.

“Wanna drink?” he offers. She nods, and he takes the glass he just wiped down. “Water, right?” 

“Right,” she answers, trying not to focus on the stains still on the glass. He sets it in front of her and she dutifully takes a gulp. 

“What brings you here so early, anyway?” Gob asks. She swallows, holding the glass in both of her hands. The water instantly becomes more interesting than Gob’s face. 

“I’m going to go look for my dad,” she answers finally. “I’ve come to say goodbye.” She sees Gob’s resulting wince out of the corner of her eye. 

“How long will you be gone?” he asks quietly. 

“I have no idea,” she answers honestly, moving her gaze from her water to the floor. Gob sighs, and the glass he was wiping down clinks against the counter. 

“Right,” he says tightly. “Goodbye. Be careful and all of that.” She nods, setting her glass down. Suddenly, she isn’t so thirsty anymore. She moves to leave, but makes the mistake of looking back at Gob. His eyes are downcast, and a frown creases his already ruined features. 

“Hey,” she says softly. “I’ll come back. Pinky swear.” She holds her pinky out. He smiles, but his eyes don’t light up. He wraps his pinky around hers, and they shake on it. 

“I’ll hold you to this,” he says. She nods, and her first real smile of the day breaks through. It falls quickly from her face when a laugh devoid of any mirth echoes through the saloon. Sunshine cuts her eyes up to see Moriarty laughing. He shakes his head, and walks down the stairs. Gob tenses as Moriarty walks behind the counter, but the man pays him no attention. He gives them another look before snorting, and closing the door to his terminal behind him. 

“Ass,” she mutters under her breath. She resists pulling Gob into a hug, and instead leaves two stimpaks on the counter as she leaves. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Lucas Simms catches her at the gate. 

“Mighty fine thing you did for this town,” he says, and his face has a gentle expression. “Never did get a chance to say that to you.” She laughs nervously.

“Thanks.”

“Where are you headed today?” She inwardly balks at the question. 

“I’m going away for a little while. To find my dad,” she explains. Simms nods sympathetically. 

“Did you ask Jericho to teach you how to shoot yet?” he asks expectantly. 

“Uh, well, you see,” she stammers. He sighs, placing a hand over his eyes. 

“You didn’t, did you?” 

“That would be a no,” she answers. He lets out a long suffering sigh.

“Look, now I know the two of you aren’t on the best of terms,” he begins, but Sunshine interrupts him. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” she grumbles. 

“But,” he interjects firmly. “You can’t just go running around the wastes handling a gun the way you do. It’ll be a damn quick way to get yourself killed. Now, come on,” he scolds. Sunshine grumbles to herself all the way to Jericho’s house. They were practically neighbors, but there wasn’t anything neighborly about the ex-raider. She is sure Jericho would rather shoot her himself, and blame it on a hangover, then teach her how to shoot. Simms knocks on Jericho’s door. A muffled curse rings out inside, along with the shattering of a glass being thrown against the door. 

“Now, Jericho,” Simms starts. “I know you ain’t the friendliest man in the bunch, but I let you stay here anyway. The way I see it, you owe me a favor. “ Another curse rings out, which is then followed by a vehement, 

“I don’t owe you shit!” Simms sighs, and rubs his temples. 

“Jericho, stop being difficult and open the door.” A long silence follows before a red-eyed and angry Jericho answers the door. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Simms asks serenely. 

“Why can’t you teach me to shoot?” she almost whines. 

“Because Jericho is a crack shot. You would be hard-pressed to find to find a better man to teach you here in Megaton,” he answers. 

“Means he’s too busy to teach you, kid,” Jericho pipes in. Sunshine glares at him, and tries not to whimper when he glares back. 

“You two get along now,” Simms calls over his shoulder as he walks away. As soon as Simms is out of earshot, Sunshine offers,

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

“Deal,” he answers, and slams the door in her face.

And so, the Lone Wanderer enters the Wasteland once again, with nominal shooting skills, and a generous amount of luck.


	2. Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine meets Dogmeat

Chapter Two: Sparks

“This is a disaster,” Sunshine moans, her face in her hands. Crazy Wolfgang balances himself on the balls of his feet nervously.

“It’s not that bad,” he says. She looks up at him. 

“You said D.C is to the south east of here,” she accuses. He licks his chapped lips. 

“Well, yeah. It is,” he answers. She throws her hands up in the air, startling the already perturbed man.

“That means I’ve been going the wrong way!” He puts his hands up nervously,

“You ever heard of that old world saying, don’t kill the messenger? That would be me, and I’d prefer it if you’d calm down.” She eyes him petulantly before sighing. 

“You’re right. Sorry,” she says. Crazy Wolfgang jumps back as she pushes herself off of the gutted Corvega she had been sitting on. “I should be thanking you for helping me before I managed to make my way out of the Capitol Wasteland entirely.” 

“Right then. Thanks for the business,” he answers. “I’ll just be on my way now.” She nods sullenly. 

“Thanks again for the help, Mr. Wolfgang,” she says. She takes off walking again, her pack lighter and her heart heavier. Crazy Wolfgang stifles a laughs before calling out to her.

“Miss?” She turns to look back at him.

“Yeah?” 

“You’re going the wrong way. D.C is that way,” he says, pointing behind him. He laughs as she enters a new bout of swearing, while never letting his hand stray from his pistol. 

 

She sighs as she plops down between decaying Corvegas and rusted motorcycles. There is still no telling how far away from D.C she is, but night has fallen, and she isn’t comfortable going out into the wastes while the sun lies dormant. While the sun shines down on her, she can pretend that everything is going to be all right, and that she isn’t afraid. It’s so much harder to lie to herself in the cold darkness of nightfall. Sunshine builds a meager fire, and draws her knees to her chest.   
Things had gone well for her so far. She hadn’t come across anything more dangerous than a vicious, feral dog. Well, except for that giant radscorpion, but she had turned tail and fled before it had caught sight of her. While she is fond of her weathered 10 mm pistol, she feels confident that the giant radscorpion would have just been pissed off by the bullets it would fire. 

She looks up at the vast expanse of stars, and feels an ache in her chest. She has been so unbearably lonely since leaving the Vault. She wishes, not for the first time, that her father had never left the safety of the Vault. Things could have stayed the way they were before, and Sunshine feels that she would have remained content to live the rest of her life surrounded by the cold steel walls she knew so well. Everything is so alien here, from the people to the mutated animals and the dogs barking in the night.   
She straightens up as she hears a dog actually barking. She grabs her gun from her holster, and crouches down to avoid detection by whatever may be out there. She wonders if it’s another vicious dog, made savage by eking out a life in the wasteland. She feels pity for the poor creatures, but she’s finally come to understand the saying “A mad dog needs to be put down.” She peaks around a pile of cars and sees a group of people congregating around a dead body. She knows who they are by the blood that covers their armor. 

Raiders, a class of people so heinous that they would take simple pleasure in destroying a person. Though she had never seen any in person, she had listened to the stories that Simms told her, and observed Jericho when he wasn’t paying attention. They are poking a ragged looking dog with their knives, and the animal struggles to stand on shaky legs. She feels pity for the poor creature, and she has no love for the raiders that torture him. The animal eventually, much to the raiders’ delight, lies over on his side. She sets a few frag mines down next to a pile of useless chassis of cars. She quietly sneaks past the raiders, keeping to the shadows that the piles in the scrap yard afford to her. When she gets close the building they’re standing by, she throws a rusted tired rim at the group of cars that hide the frag mines. 

The raiders turn their attention away from the dog, and move toward the trap. Yes! She thinks jubilantly. She moves toward the dog to check the extent of his injuries. His blue eyes roll up to give her a numb look. She gently strokes the animal’s head before fishing a stimpak out of the bag on her back. He whimpers as she injects him with the medicine, but the wound begins to close enough for her to carry the poor animal. She gently slips her hands underneath the dog, and gently lifts him into her arms. She stands.

“You’re dead meat!” a raider that catches sight of her yells. She tranquilly looks down at the animal in her arms. 

“That would be our cue to get out here, wouldn’t it, boy?” she asks, and a weak bark answers her. As she exits the scrap yard, she hears an alarmed “Oh, shit!” ring out before the explosion engulfs the scene in flames.


	3. Creatures in the Metro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine and Dogmeat make it to D.C

Chapter 3: Creatures in the Metro

Sunshine wasn’t making it to D.C as fast as she would have liked. In addition to getting constantly turned around, the dog she had saved remained slightly leery of her. She feels like the only reason she makes any progress with him at all is because of Cram. 

“There you go, boy,” she coos softly, sliding the rubbery meat out of its two-century old tin casing. It lands with a sickening thump on his bowl, and he happily begins to eat it. Mealtimes are when she is the most bold with him. She cautiously reaches out to stroke his fur. She feels the weathered edge of a collar. Slowly, she inches closer to get a better look. The dog continues to eat happily, but keeps a wary gaze on her. She gently lifts the tag on the collar to read it, and bites back a laugh.

“ _Dogmeat_?” she asks incredulously. “Your name is Dogmeat?” Dogmeat barks, as if in affirmation. “I guess that’s why you wouldn’t answer to Spot.” She tentatively pets his ear, and for the first time since she found him, he doesn’t growl at the attention. 

“Well then, Dogmeat. Are you enjoying your Cram?” she asks gently. He barks again, and actually nuzzles her hand. She rips open a box of InstaMash, and feeds him bits of the rough, clumpy starch as she eats. He licks her fingers, and she bites back a small squeal of delight. 

Back in the Vault, she had read stories of young heroes and their canine companions. She remembers pleading with her father to find her a puppy, because she was five and he was her daddy, and he could do _anything._

He had smiled sadly, and patted her head. He told her that their vault was unfortunate to not have room enough for dogs, and it was a great loss for everyone. 

Coarse fur rubbing against her arm startles her from her reminiscing. Dogmeat looks at her warily before curling up next to her.   
She carefully reaches out to pet him, and he nuzzles her hand again. 

“You’re a good dog,” she says softly, her hands running through his matted and grimy fur. She winces, and doesn’t relish the prospect of having to bathe him. He yawns and, safely nestled against her side, falls asleep. She lies down as well, staring at the stars. She tries to remember the constellations that her father had taught her, but the yellowing pages of books didn’t do justice to the vast expanse of stars the sky became at night.

“I hope you’re safe, Dad,” she whispers, hugging Dogmeat before falling asleep. 

 

She wakes up to the most horrible smell. She opens her eyes to see Dogmeat happily panting in her face. She feels drool slide down the side of her cheek. His mismatched eyes gleam with mischief. 

“Gross,” she grumbles, sitting up and wiping it off with the back of her hand. He yips, and licks her face. She giggles, gently pushing him away, and wiping her face again. She stands, throwing her pack over her shoulder. 

“We shouldn’t be that far from Farragut Metro Station, boy. That means we’re close to D.C!” she declares. “That is, if I haven’t gotten us lost again.” She scratches the back of her head and looks around. 

“Damn it, which way is west?” she says, looking down at her Pip-Boy in frustration. 

 

Sunshine double-checks, and then triple-checks, the sign in front of the metro station. Each time it reads ‘Farragut West Metro Station.’

“I think this is the place, Dogmeat,” she says, a grin breaking over her face. (However, she checks the sign one more time-just in case.) 

She wanders through the flimsy metal gate. The dampness of the metro catches her off-guard. She scrunches her nose against a smell she can’t identify, and Dogmeat emanates a harsh growl. She pulls out her pistol and holds it in front of her. The unfamiliar weight does little to help her apprehension. The smell gets stronger with each step she takes. Dogmeat’s growl rises to a low rumble, almost drowning out the inhuman scream that echoes through the metro. 

“What the hell?” she whispers, eyes darting left to right rapidly. She doesn’t see anything. A pounding echoes in her ears but she can’t tell if it’s her heartbeat, or thundering footsteps. Her arms begin to quiver. Dogmeat turns to look behind her, barking wildly. She turns just in time to see an emaciated figure lunge at her. She throws herself to the side, feeling sharp nails-or are they claws?- dig into her chest. With an undignified yelp, she falls backwards onto the hard concrete. 

And the monster she stares up at is death personified.

The creature’s milky eyes connect with hers, and it lets out a horrible screech. More screeches follow in reply. Oh God. There’s more than one. It tilts it’s head and pounces on her. She screams as it bites into her shoulder, holding her down with an iron grip. It begins to chew, eliciting another scream of pain. Dogmeat slams into the creature’s side, and knocks it off of her. It hisses, swiping at Dogmeat. She raises her gun. The first shot misses, and the second catches it in the torso. It staggers to it’s feet, and she shoots it in the leg. When it falls over, she meets it’s eyes again. She points the gun at the monster’s face, and closes her eyes as she pulls the trigger. 

When she stands, she stumbles against a wall. She retches, and then throws up the remains of breakfast. Whatever that thing was used to be a person. A person that thought, and laughed, and loved someone once. She coughs and spits, trying to rid herself of the horrible taste that has taken up residence in her mouth. She hears the screams again, and her face hardens. After reloading her gun, she takes a tentative step forward. Dogmeat follows at her heels. She looks around the corner to see a group of them sniffing the air, and lumbering toward where she and Dogmeat are. She glances down at her wound. They can smell it. Shit. She aims down the sights of her gun and fires a shot off at the one closest to them. Dogmeat runs and tackles a second one. She manages to take one of them down before they swarm her. She takes a deep breath and dodges a slash from one, only to be hit by another. Keeping her balance, she presses the barrel of the 10 mm to the chest of one, and shoots. She punches another in the face and it latches on with its teeth. She swears and knocks it over the head with the handle of the pistol. Once it lets go, she kicks it away and puts a few rounds in it. Claws rake her cheek. She puts some distance between her and the last one before putting it out of its misery. 

Once all of the creatures are killed, the only sounds left to keep her and Dogmeat company are the echoes from the gunshots and Sunshine’s heavy breathing. Dogmeat walks up with a smug look on his face, and an arm in his teeth. She winces and crouches down.

“Leggo,” she says, reluctantly tugging on the body part. Dogmeat growls and tries to pull it away from her. “If you drop it, I’ll give you some Cram.” The arm lands in her hand with a sickening thump. Making a face, she throws it away from them. Dogmeat sits and looks at her expectantly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, making a face at the dog. She fishes his bowl out of her pack, and cracks open a can of Cram. Once it’s free from its tin casing, Dogmeat begins to devour it. She reaches out to pet him, and he looks up. He begins licking the wound on her hand. She hisses, jerking away from him. 

“Guess I better take care of these, huh?” she says, gesturing to her injuries. Sunshine rummages around until she finds some gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Nova had teased her for rescuing the rubbing alcohol. She had said if it wasn’t any good for drinking, then it had no use. But she had allowed Sunshine to treat the wounds she had acquired from Moriarty with it. She shakes her head at the memory, and pulls her now ruined shirt over her head. She sighs, and throws it to the side. There would be no rescuing it. Five large gashes on her chest, three on her left side, and two bite wounds for her trouble. She looks at a   
happily uninjured Dogmeat with derision.

“Let’s hope we don’t come across many more of those things, huh? You’d be ok, but I sure wouldn’t,” she says. Dogmeat barks in response, licking his bowl clean. She cleans the wounds on her side and chest without much difficultly. The one on her shoulder is harder. She disinfects it and begins to examine it. The creature’s teeth had left deep, ragged holes that were just starting to slow their bleeding. Sunshine mutters a few choice swear words that would disappoint her father. She needs to sew it up, but she doesn’t have the materials or the time. After injecting it with a stimpak, she wraps it in gauze as well as she is able to, and hopes it won’t get infected. She pours some rubbing alcohol on her hand, hissing at the sting. After bandaging it, she flexes it a couple of time. It hurts, but it isn’t anything that will keep her down.   
Now, to find another shirt. She knows she found one during her travels. After fighting with everything in the pack, she finally finds one. It’s a little less ragged than the one she discarded, but not by much. She slips it over her head. It’ll have to do until she comes across another one. She pulls out a bottle of water, taking a swig.

“You ready?” she asks. Dogmeat barks what Sunshine takes to be an affirmation. She pours some water down his throat. After getting his fill (and making a mess all over her), he licks her face. She stands, and swings her pack on her uninjured shoulder. 

“Let’s go.”

They manage to make it through the metro without any further incidents, and when they exit Sunshine feels that the sign proclaiming ‘Chevy Chase’ is the most beautiful thing she’d seen since leaving the Vault. 

“Almost there,” she breathes. Gunshots sound out and instantly kill her good mood. “Hell’s bells,” she swears, pulling her pistol out of her holster. “What now?”


	4. Get the Fatman!

Chapter Four: Get the Fatman!

When Sunshine reaches the top of the stairs, there is a war going on throughout the abandoned streets of D.C. Super mutants and people in strange suits of armor are shooting at each other, yelling obscenities back and forth. She looks for a way to avoid the scene. She spots an exit down a back alley, and steps toward it. A super mutant with a sledgehammer blocks her way.

"Time to die!" it bellows, swinging the sledgehammer at her. She shoots it in the chest, but that doesn't slow it down. "Aaaah! STUPID LADY!" She fires her gun again, only to have it jam.

"Shit," she swears, hitting the butt of her gun desperately. The super mutant races toward her, sledgehammer raised high above its head. She scrambles backwards to get away from it, and ends up tripping in her hurry to get away. She lands on her back, and the jagged concrete digs into her skin. The super mutant takes two red beams of light to the head before unceremoniously falling over. She looks up to see a man in an odd suit of armor glaring down at her.

"Get out of here, local," he growls, holstering his laser rifle. "Before you get yourself killed." She pulls herself up, and pats a growling Dogmeat's head.

"Shh, boy. It's alright now," she says, trying to slow the beating of her heart.

"Look," an angry voice calls. "I don't know who you are, but you don't belong here." Sunshine looks up to see a livid blonde woman in the same armor the man is dressed in. She stands, proud of herself for not wincing.

"I'm sorry?" Sunshine apologizes unsurely.

"Why are you here?" the woman demands.

"I'm looking for Galaxy News Radio," Sunshine answers. The woman's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You're going to Galaxy News?" she asks, looking the girl up and down doubtfully.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm looking for my father," Sunshine answers, nervously shifting from foot to foot. The woman shakes her head.

"The super mutants have overrun our brothers at the Galaxy News Radio building, and we're going there to back them up. You can tag along if you want," she says. As an afterthought, she adds, "Don't do anything stupid." The man who saved Sunshine from the super mutant strides up.

"What the hell are you doing, Lyons?" he demands. The woman shrugs.

"We could use the extra bullets. Lighten up, Vargas," she answers. "All right, pride! Let's move out!" A group of armored individuals seemingly come out of the cracks in the destroyed buildings to follow the blonde woman. Vargas gives Sunshine a brief look before muttering an "Aw, hell" and stalking off. Sunshine throws her 10 mm pistol in her pack and quickly fishes out a .32. She doesn't like it as much because it's weaker, but it's as good a back up gun as any.

There are more mutants the further they go on, but the strange soldiers take them out with their laser rifles before Sunshine can fire any shots out. She stops to scavenge a decent assault carbine, much to the chagrin of the group. Her eyes wander over the crumbling buildings, and feels awe at how they're still standing, albeit a bit shakily, after all of this time.

They enter an area crawling with soldiers fighting mutants. Sunshine raises her rifle, and starts shooting. Sarah Lyons had been right; the courtyard is thick with the yellow-skinned beasts. Some fall screaming by her bullets, but more by laser fire. She feels like she's firing useless bullets. Dogmeat, thankfully, has the good sense to stay close to her. A bullet whizzes past her head with a deafening screech, and she takes cover behind a destroyed wall. She reloads her rifle, and shoots when she hears the mutants reloading. Much to Sunshine's surprise, the group clears out the mutants with few, if any, causalities.

"All right!" a female soldier no older than Sunshine yells, pumping her fist in the air. She's dancing around Vargas, who has a disgruntled look on his face. She shoots a few victory rounds into the air.

"Knock it off, Redding," he snaps. "Show's not over yet. Scan the area."

"Yeah, yeah," she says, waving her hand dismissively before running off. Sunshine stands, brushing dust off of her shoulder.

And the Earth begins to tremble.

She looks around in surprise. There is a great thundering that sounds suspiciously like footsteps. But nothing can be that big-

"Redding! Get out of there!" a desperate shout interrupts her thoughts. She hears an explosion and takes cover behind the wall she used earlier, seeing Redding fly to the side out of the corner of her eye. Pieces of concrete slam against her makeshift barricade, and she can see the thick material crack. She winces at the thought of what that means for Redding.

"Behemoth!" someone yells. Sunshine sees Lyons scrambling backwards, reloading her laser rifle.

"Get the fatman!" she screams. Sunshine looks toward the dry, quivering fountain to see a fatman glittering in the sunlight. She takes off running toward it, trying to keep her balance on the quaking ground. She stumbles, catching herself on the dead soldier next to the fatman. She winces as her hand lands in a puddle of blood. She pulls the fatman to her, and fumbles loading a mini-nuke into it. She braces the massive nuclear missile launcher on her shoulder, and swings it around to aim it at the behemoth. She's only got one shot at this. Dogmeat barks at her heels.

"Take cover!" She yells, and the behemoth turns to look at her. She feels nauseous staring at the necklace of giant skulls that adorn the monster's neck. It purposefully takes a step toward her, and she pulls the trigger. Time slows down as the nuke dances through the air. Sunshine fears that the missile will miss its mark, but it catches the behemoth in the shoulder. Dropping the fatman, she grabs Dogmeat and ducks behind the fountain. A booming explosion sounds, and she winces at the volume of it. She hears the Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy ticking furiously. She peaks her head around the fountain to see the behemoth sway. It emits one final, death-curdling roar, and falls over dead. Small pieces of the weathered old buildings begin to rain down on the group.

"I'll be damned," Lyons says, whistling lowly. Sunshine stands, releasing Dogmeat. "Looks like you proved yourself, kid." Sunshine gives the soldier a weak grin before sinking down again. The girl quivers, looking down at her shaking hands. She fights the urge to pass out as she looks up at Lyons.

"We'll have to do something about that iron constitution of yours," the woman says sarcastically. "But, in all seriousness, thank you."

"I'd like to talk to Three Dog now," Sunshine replies weakly. Lyon nods, motioning to the radio station that towers over them.

"Go on, kid. You earned it." Taking a deep breath, she stands again, and finds her legs less shaky than before. She smiles down at Dogmeat.

"Let's go." He barks an affirmative, and she begins making her winding way through the rubble. She holds her nose as she passes the behemoth. The smell of it reminds her of rotting mole rat corpses. Her heart tightens as she sees Vargas standing over the corpse of Redding. The hard look in his eyes is made harder by grief. She walks up to him, and he barely acknowledges her. Out of impulse, she throws her arms around him. He stiffens in surprise.

"Sorry," she whispers before letting go and quickly bounding up the steps to GNR. She ignores the way his eyes burn holes in the back of her head. She presses the intercom, and speaks into it.

"Hello? I'm here to see Three Dog," she says, unsure as to how loud her voice needs to be.

"All clear. Come on in," a disembodied voice says from the intercom. Sunshine takes a deep breath, and pushes open the doors to the radio station. Soldiers mill about inside, and some stop to look at her in surprise.

"That's was pretty impressive, kid," one of them says, and she blushes furiously.

"I'm looking for Three Dog," she says, and he jerks one thumb behind him.

"Up the stairs and through the door." She thanks him and follows the stairs to find one single undestroyed door. She knocks, and doesn't hear a response. She opens it anyway.

"Hello?" she calls as the door clicks closed behind her. "Dad? Mr. Three Dog?" She finds another set off stairs, and sees a man with glasses and a head wrap standing at the top with a crazy grin on his face.

"The look on your face says it all," he says, and Sunshine wonders if she's that easy to read. He points to himself with his right thumb. "You're wondering who this guy is, and why you should care. Well, prepare to be enlightened! I'm Three Dog, jockey of disks and teller of truths! Lord and master of the finest radio station to grace the wastes-Galaxy News Radio." The way he speaks sounds odd, like he was a character from one of the old Vault holodisks instead of an actual, flesh and blood person. She opens her mouth to speak, but Three Dog beats her to it.

"And you. I know who you are. Heard about you leavin' the Vault, travelin' the unknown. Just like dear old Dad, hmm? Met him already-"

"Please!" she says desperately, cutting him off. "Where is my dad? Is he here?"

"Hey, hey! One thing at a time. Nah, your old man ain't here. Not anymore. He heard ole' Three Dog on the radio, and figured I knew what was what out here in the Capital Wasteland. He was right. So I filled the old man in. But he split. Looks like I've got my way of contributing to the Good Fight, and he's got his own." Sunshine's shoulders slump, but she keeps speaking.

"The Good Fight?" She asks, genuinely interested. She'd heard Gob speak of it a couple of times, but couldn't get anything more than a vague idea of it out of him past his blind adoration for Three Dog.

"Imagine a picture, okay? A picture of the Capital Wasteland. All that brick and rock. A whole lot of nothing, right? There's people out there just trying to barely make it by from day to day. Fighting to stay alive, and make something of what they got. But then you've got all of this shit. Raiders, slavers, super mutants. They all want a piece of the pie, too- and they aim to take it by force. "

"So you fight the Good Fight with your voice on the radio!" Sunshine says, catching on. He laughs.

"Well, aren't you just a chip off the old block. Just like your dad," he says. A feeling of misery wells up inside Sunshine's chest, and she doesn't know what to say.


	5. Boom, Headshot!

Chapter Five: Boom, Headshot!

Sunshine hates D.C.

Three Dog asked her to help with the Good Fight, and find another broadcast relay. She is more than willing to do so, but is a little upset that he's bargaining her father's location. She'd refused to bargain with Moriarty, instead hacking his terminal.

At least Three Dog didn't want her to kill anyone.

That thought brings her little solace as she and Dogmeat make their way through the Mall, after nearly losing life and limb by traversing through another monster-infested metro.

"STUPID LADY!"

"Not again," she groans, taking cover as a barrage of bullets fly toward her. She should have never sold her shotgun to Crazy Wolfgang. She desperately looks for a place to run to. She sees a building that still looks elegant, even after all of this time. A weathered banner reads 'Museum' in peeling letters, but she can't see any other words from this vantage point.

"Look at that, Dogmeat! Maybe that's where we need to go," she says to the dog while aiming over the barricade to shoot at a reloading super-mutant. It falls, and she takes off running with Dogmeat at her heels. The doors come into view and a grin cracks over her face. She's so close! She just has a few more yards and-

A sharp pain blossoms through her calf. She cries out, hitting the ground. A sick feeling settles in her stomach as she looks down at her leg to see blood running down the length of her calf down onto the broken concrete. A super mutant charges her, only to fall with a hole in it's head.

"God damn tourist!" an angry voice yells. She looks up to see an angry ghoul woman glaring down at her. The woman aims her shotgun and fells another mutant. She holds her hand out to Sunshine, and pulls the girl up.

"Thank you," she says gratefully, keeping pressure off of her leg.

"Come on, smoothskin. Let's get you to Doctor Barrows." The woman lets her lean on her, and they make their way toward the museum.

"Is this the Museum of Technology?" Sunshine asks hopefully.

"No, it's the Musuem of History. Museum of Technology is across the way." Sunshine purses her lips as she looks behind her. Across the trenches filled with super mutants with miniguns.

"Damn." They walk through the peeling wooden doors, and the first thing Sunshine sees is a dusty skeleton of a dinosaur.

"Neat," she says, neck straining to see the top. The ghoul chuckles.

"Tourist," she says, shaking her head.

"I'm not a tourist," Sunshine protests.

"You're here in the Mall of the greatest city in the country. You're a tourist, kid," she says, still chuckling. "I'm Willow."

"Sunshine," she answers as they near black double doors with a giant skull over them. A dark sign proclaiming 'Underworld' catches her attention. "Underworld? Hey, my friend Gob is from here!"

"Gob, huh? You should probably see Carol when you're patched up," Willow says, and they walk in. A beautiful, if dusty, rotunda greets them, and it buzzes with activity. Sunshine feels a little out of place in the sea of ghouls. A ghoul in a Robco jumpsuit strolls up.

"Hey, Willow. Who's the smoothskin?" he asks, eyeing Sunshine and Dogmeat.

"Some tourist I rescued from super mutants. Do me a favor and take her to Doc Barrows, all right? I gotta make sure the muties haven't started overrunning the lobby," Willow says, handing the girl over. The male ghoul dutifully extends her arm for her to lean on.

"We got us a smoothskin visitor, huh? Hoooeee. We haven't seen one of your kind here in a while," he says. He begins leading her to the back of the rotunda.

"What does smoothskin mean?" she asks. She'd been called the term before, but didn't know the origin.

"Smoothskin. You know, because your skin is so smooth. And tasty," he says. She looks at him uneasily. He laughs. "Relax! I'm just kidding! Had you going there though, didn't I?"

"You sure did," she says with a weak chuckle. "What's your name?"

"Winthrop. I keep this junk heap running," he answers. "We're running a little low on scrap metal though."

"I have some in my pack if you'd like it," she offers. They reach the back of the room, and she feels the sign proclaiming 'Chop Shop' above the doors doesn't bode well.

"Thanks, kid," he says, and gives her a toothy grin. They enter, and Sunshine gags on the stench. She sees one of the monsters that haunt the metros on the operating table. It's dead, but she can't help but jump back from it.

"Don't worry. That feral ghoul is dead," a ghoul in bloodied surgical scrubs says.

"Feral?" she murmurs, eyeing the corpse.

"I'm Doctor Barrows. Let's see about getting you patched up." Winthrop helps her sit on one of the beds, and she rummages through her pack for the scrap metal to give to him. He thanks her before leaving, and Doctor Barrows looks at her leg.

"They got you good, didn't they?"

"Yes, sir." He inhales deeply, and fixes his eyes on her shoulder.

"Your shoulder is infected as well."

"Yes, sir. I was bitten by a mon-by a feral ghoul," she explains. He nods, moving the fabric of her sleeve to the side. He continues to work in silence, and Sunshine contents herself to looking at the cracked ceiling. She hisses through clenched teeth as he disinfects the wounds, and injects her with stimpaks. Her vision swims a little after the injections and the wounds burn as they begin to heal.

"There you go," he says, wiping his hands on his scrubs. "That'll be sixty caps." She dutifully fishes out the money and gives it to him.

"Thank you," she says, hoping off of the bed. Her leg is a little sore, but she can walk on it.

"I'd rest for a couple of days," he says. She nods.

"Sure thing. Is there an inn?"

"Carol's Place. Up the stairs and to the right." As she leaves the clinic, she notices a comatose blonde woman. Wonder what's wrong with her,she thinks. She makes her way to the stairs, and sees a black Mr,Gutsy floating by.

"Hello," she says. "What can you tell me about this place?"

"Underworld is a town of peace-loving ghouls, so check your bigotry at the door! They're just like humans! They feel, they hurt, they bleed! They deserve the same love and respect as any other human, and don't you forget it!" it proclaims. Underneath it's breath, the robot says, "Damn this zombie programming." She giggles, and allows it to float past her. She walks into the first double doors she sees, and promptly waltzes into a mostly empty bar.

"Um," she says, looking around. A tall ghoul leaning in the corner looks her up and down, as if appraising her for any weapons. She walks up to him, smiling.

"Hello," she says. "I'm looking for-"

"No," he says abruptly. "Talk to Ahzrukhal." Her face falls.

"But I just-" He leans forward, and she bites back a small yelp as she takes a step back.

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal." She backs up further from him.

"Ok, fine. Jeez," she mutters. The ghoul leans up against the wall again, his face expressionless. She turns when she hears deep chuckling. She sees a greening ghoul in a business suit wiping down the bar. He grins when she takes a seat.

"Well, lookee here. A smoothskin I ain't ever see before. I'm Ahzrukhal, and this," he pauses dramatically. "This is the Ninth Circle."

"I'm looking for Carol's Place," she says, and his eyes narrow.

"I don't talk about her. I don't like competition," he growls.

"Sorry? I just need a place to sleep." And like magic, that slimy grin is back.

"Why don't you take a load off? Order a drink," he says. "You could sleep here. We have extra beds." She tries not to shudder.

"I guess I'll take a Nuka Cola then, sir," she says. His smile fades a fraction as he slides the soda to her. She pops it open, depositing the cap in her satchel. She looks around the bar, and her eyes fall on the ghoul in the corner. She catches his hard gaze, and promptly lowers her eyes down to her soda.

"What's that guy's problem?" she murmurs against the glass bottle. Ahzrukhal chuckles next to her ear, causing her to jump and slosh soda on the front of her shirt.

"That's Charon. He's, well. Let's just say he's a loyal employee. Don't mess with me, and he won't mess with you." The way he says 'loyal' makes chills run up Sunshine's spine.

"A loyal employee?" she asks, eyeing the other ghoul doubtfully. "What do you mean by that?"

"I hold his contract, which makes me his employer. He will do what I ask, when I ask, without question," he says gleefully. "You see, Charon grew up around an interesting group of individuals. They, well. I guess you can say they brainwashed him." She looks back at the other ghoul-Charon- and tenses when he looks back. His eyes are stone cold, and they move to focus on Ahzrukhal. She gets the feeling that he can hear every word being said. "He is absolutely loyal to whoever holds his contract. Unfailing, unflinching, until the day that employment ends."

"So, he's your slave?" she whispers, disgust filling her every pore. Ahzrukhal tsks.

"Madam, you offend me. I abhor slavery. He is simply a valuable employee. I point at something, and Charon hurts it. He is the best a corrupt bartender could ask for," he says, looking fondly toward Charon. The other ghoul's eyes burn with a hate that makes Sunshine's heart clench. Charon turns away, and she makes up her mind. She spins her chair around to face Ahzrukhal.

"How much?"

"Pardon?"

"How much for his contract?" she asks. "I want it." She can't leave him here. It wouldn't be right. Ahzrukhal laughs, and the sound makes her want to cover her ears.

"Oh, would you now? He is a highly valuable asset to me and the Ninth Circle. What would you have in mind?"

"A thousand caps," she offers, and gets a barking laugh in response.

"No dice. Come back when you're ready to make a real offer," he scoffs, turning away from her. She looks back at Charon, and strengthens her resolve.

"Two thousand," she says, grabbing his sleeve. He raises an eyebrow.

"Oh? Now you're talking," he says. She bites her lip, and he says, "I'd be willing to make a deal if you don't want to spend that much. You may not like what I have to offer."

"What kind of deal?"

"The fact that there is another source of booze in town troubles me. Greta, the waitress over at Carol's," he says, his face creasing menacingly. "I want you to kill her." She meets his gaze with a stone cold look of her own.

"I'll pay the caps," she answers darkly, sliding her satchel over to him. "There should be two thousand in there." He eyes the satchel greedily before snatching it. He opens the bag to begin counting.

"Very well," he says, handing her a weathered piece of paper. She looks at it, but it is so worn that the writing has faded away. All she can make out is the word 'Charon'. "I'll give you the pleasure of informing Charon yourself." She stands, and makes her way toward him.

"Talk to-"

"I have good news," she says warmly. "I'm your new employer." He looks at her, genuinely surprised.

"You are? That is good to know. Please, wait here. I have to take care of something," he says quietly. She nods. He makes his way over to Ahzrukhal. The other ghoul smirks.

"What's wrong, Charon? Come to say goodbye?" he asks, shaking the satchel of caps.

"Yes," Charon says, pulling his shotgun off of his back. Dogmeat begins barking wildly, and Sunshine gasps, hands flying to her mouth.

"Wai-" she begins, but Charon has already taken the shot. Half of Ahzrukhal's head hits the bar, and his body slumps to the floor. Charon eyes the body with distain, and shoots it again. He turns to her, sliding the shotgun back in it's holster.

"All right. Let's go," he says, making to walk past her. She grabs his arm.

"What the fuck was that?" she squeaks. His eyes lock on hers.

"Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard. So long as he held my contract, I was honor-bound to do as he commanded. But now you are my employer, which allowed me to free the world of that disgusting rat. And now, for good or ill, I serve you." She hands his contract out to him.

"I bought this to free you," she says in a small voice. A pained look comes over his face, and he gently closes her fingers around the slip of paper.

"It doesn't work like that, kid."


	6. To See The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunshine and Charon make their way to the Museum of Technology

Chapter Six: To See The Stars

Listening to Carol intently with Dogmeat’s head resting on her knee, she sneaks a glance at Charon. The ghoul keeps his eyes on the door, sneering at the uneasy looks the other patrons give him. Everyone heard about what happened to Ahzrukhal. Strangely, no one seemed to mourn the ghoul’s death.

They seemed more worried about Charon, and what he would do next.

Carol ends her story in a quivering, raspy voice and it causes her chest to tighten. She can’t even imagine living through the Great War, let alone being able to talk about it. Carol’s sad gaze matches her own.

“See, and you said you weren’t interesting,” Sunshine teases, hoping to bring a smile to the woman’s face. It works, and Carol chuckles.

“You try telling the same story for two hundred years, and see if it doesn’t get boring,” she answers.  Sunshine returns the smile, and suddenly remembers what Willow told her.

“Oh, I know Gob. I was told to come see you,” she says, and is rewarded by a warm grin.

“Oh, do you? He’s my son. Well, not really, since ghouls don’t work like that, but I love him like he’s my own. How is he?” she asks, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Sunshine winces internally. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut. Charon turns to look at her with an unreadable expression.

“He works in a bar,” she says after a moment of deliberation. Carol lets out a happy squeak, and Greta rolls her eyes.

“Oh, I’m so proud of him! When you see him again, tell him his mother is very proud. I want to see him. But he should stay right where he is. It’s too dangerous to come back,” she says, shaking her head. Sunshine bites her lip, and changes the subject.

“Do you have any rooms available?” she asks.

“Just the one,” Carol answers, and Sunshine looks back at Charon nervously. He doesn’t say anything. “We can bring in an extra cot,” she says kindly, resting her hand on Sunshine’s arm. She lets out a relieved breath.

“Thank you,” she says. She reaches for her satchel of caps to pay Carol, and tries to ignore the spattering of brain matter still clinging to it. She gives Carol the caps for the room, and asks Charon,

“What do you want for dinner?” He looks at her for a long, tense moment. “What?”

“I’ll eat whatever you wish to provide,” he says slowly.

“Yeah, but what if I pick something you don’t like?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at him. “You have the right to eat what you want, Charon. You’re not my slave.” He jerks back ever so slightly, and his eyes widen just a fraction. Sunshine wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t been paying attention.

“Salisbury steak,” he says quietly. She smiles softly at him, and turns to Greta.

“A Salisbury steak, some Cram,” she lists, absently patting Dogmeat’s head. “Um. What do you want to drink, Charon?”

“What are you drinking?” he asks.

“Nuka Cola,” she answers.

“Then that is fine.”

“Ok. Two Nuka Colas, and um. Hmmm,” she scratches her head. “Salisbury steak sounds pretty good. Another one of those, please.” Greta nods and leaves to get their order. She makes faces at Dogmeat, and begins trying to teach him how to shake. He just licks her hands happily. A shadow falls over her, and she sees Charon standing over her. She never noticed how tall he is in comparison to everyone else around them.

“Thank you,” he says, and his voice is so quiet it is like he hadn’t spoken at all. She looks up at him with a smile.

“You’re welcome. Do you want to sit next to us?” she asks, gesturing to the seat next to her and Dogmeat. “You don’t have to sit so far away, you know.” He nods and silently takes a seat next to her. Greta brings their meal, and Sunshine thanks her kindly.  Charon looks down at his plate as though he can hardly believe it is sitting in front of him. Sunshine nudges the plate towards him.

“Go ahead. Eat up,” she says, cracking open the can of Cram. Dogmeat yips happily, tail wagging furiously. Charon gives her an unreadable look before looks back down at his plate. He picks the steak up with his fingers, completely bypassing the silverware Greta set out. He slurps the gravy off his fingers. He’s working on the last one when he looks at Sunshine. She’s staring at him, and he fights back a wave of embarrassment about his lack of etiquette. But, to his surprise, she smiles and says,

“Good idea.” She sets her silverware down, and picks up her steak, taking a vicious bite out of it. Gravy dribbles down her chin to land on the floor at her feet, much to the happiness of her dog.

Charon doesn’t know how to respond.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed? That cot looks pretty small,” Sunshine asks for the fourth time. They’re in what passes as a hotel room in the wasteland, and appropriated bathroom stalls all that separates them from the rest of the patrons.

“The cot will be sufficient,” he answers again.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re really tall, and that cot is really short. I think you’ll hang off of the edge.”

“I’ll be fine. Plus, I think the bed has already been spoken for,” he says, motioning to the bed where Dogmeat lays happily sprawled out. Sunshine turns and lets out a chagrined,

“Dogmeat!” Charon chuckles as she scolds him about having proper manners, and I thought I taught you to have more class than that. He rests his shotgun against the makeshift wall, and sits on the cot. It sags a little underneath his weight, and he swings his legs up on it. Sunshine is right, his feet do hang off a little at the end, but it isn’t unbearably uncomfortable. Sunshine sighs, collapsing on the bed.

“How do you feel about leaving tomorrow?” she asks the ceiling.

“What about your leg?” Charon asks, pulling his shotgun over his lap. It’s been ages since he last cleaned it because there wasn’t much use for it while he had been Ahzrukhal’s bodyguard. Slimy bastard hardly ever left his dirty hovel. The girl sits up and looks at him.

“How’d you know? Does word spread that fast here?” she asks.

“You’ve been favoring your other leg,” he grunts. “Limping. You should probably keep off of it for a couple days.” She smiles sadly.

“I don’t have time,” she says, lying back down again. “I’ve wasted too much time already.”

“What’s the rush?” he asks, popping his gun apart. After a tense hesitation that leaves Charon wondering if he spoke out of turn, she answers.

“I’m looking for my father. Three Dog knows where he is, but he needs me to do something for him. I have to get the Virgo II Lunar Lander satellite dish for his broadcast relay.”

“Isn’t that in the Museum of Technology?” he asks, looking down the sight of his gun. “Place is crawling with uglies.”

“Yeah. That’s why it’s fortunate we happened upon one another. That is, if you really know how to use that gun of yours.” His head snaps up to see her smiling. She’s teasing him. It’s been a while since he was playfully teased instead of bitterly mocked. He raises what is left of his eyebrow.

“That a challenge, smoothskin?” tumbles out of his mouth before he can think better of it.

“Maybe. I’m a pretty decent shot for someone who doesn’t know how to handle a gun,” she says with a laugh, and rolls over to go to sleep.

He hopes she’s just kidding about that last part.

 

* * *

 

Turns out she’s not. When they began their fight to the Museum of Technology, Charon had been impressed with how she was able to keep up with him despite her leg. However, when she started spraying 5.56 mm bullets everywhere in an attempt to hit something, he had been less than impressed. The dog had killed more muties than she had. He clears out the lobby of the museum, and checks around for other enemies. Sunshine reloads her rifle.

“That’s the last clip,” she says forlornly. He snorts, but doesn’t say anything, instead opting to reload his shotgun. “What?”

“You may not wish to hear what I have to say,” he says simply, depositing the empty clip in his back pocket to refill later.

“Charon, I’m not Ahzurkhal. You can speak freely around me,” she offers.

“Very well. You wouldn’t run out of ammo so fast if you didn’t shoot it like it was going out of style. Also, your rifle is in shitty condition. Where did you get that thing? Did you pry it from the cold, dead hands of a super mutant?” Her face flushes pink, and he can see her ears turn red underneath her dirty blonde hair.  A mumbled “Something like that” reaches his ears, and he chuckles. They make their way up the stairs, and she stops at a terminal. While she’s fiddling around with the computer, he checks the next room for super mutants. He takes out the two loitering on the balcony over-looking the airplane exhibit. He looks back at Sunshine’s face lit by the glow of the computer terminal and shakes his head. 

The way is uneventful, with Charon doing what he does best and Sunshine stopping at every computer terminal along the way. They reach a demonstration of a Vault that has long been out of use. It starts up when they cross the threshold of the fake Vault door, and the recording sounds almost happy to have an audience again. The chipper voice sounding through the speakers contrasts darkly with the blood stains on the wall. Sunshine shivers and unconsciously moves closer to Charon. She nervously covers her Pip-Boy with her free hand, trying to hide as though it were her very own scarlet letter. Charon would have called it a bullseye.

Her breathing becomes easier when they’re out of the fake Vault, and she increases her pace to escape the cheery voice promising safety and stability. They pass through a long and narrow hallway covered with decaying pictures of coming museum attractions that never saw the light of day. Charon glances around suspiciously. It has been too quiet since the last group of super mutants that attacked them had been dispatched. There had to be more of them wandering around, and it makes Charon nervous that he can’t see them.

They walk into a wide open room and see a large projector in the middle. Sunshine walks over to it curiously and it powers up.  She startles, but then looks up at the stars projected on the ceiling in awe.

“For as long as history has been recorded, man has had an insatiable desire for the stars,” the recording booms. Thundering footsteps begin making their way toward them.

“Shit,” Charon swears, raising his shotgun. He looks over at Sunshine, She hasn’t heard the footsteps. She walks around and blissfully traces the outline of the stars and planets the fading projection flashes on the ceiling. She looks almost serene, and something tightens in Charon’s chest, but he pushes that away as he sees the super mutants sneaking up on her. One points his gun at her and Charon ceases to think. His conditioning comes out as he slams into her, and she lands on her back with a startled gasp. Kneeling over her, he aims his shotgun and shoots the mutants attacking her-them. He looks down at her wide eyes and pale face. He can feel her erratic breathing as her chest bumps against his knees. He stands, and offers his hand. She shakily takes it and he pulls her to her feet.

“Thank you,” she says over the ringing in her ears. He nods, and they don’t say anything else to each other until they find the satellite dish. She kneels down and begins unscrewing it from the Virgo II Lunar Lander, and Charon keeps a watchful eye on their surroundings. She carefully pulls the dish off, but the Lunar Lander falls over anyway with a loud clang. Charon jumps, glaring at her.

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly as jumbled cries of “TIME TO DIE” echo past their ears.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know how you made it all the way to D.C alive, kid,” Charon says, lighting a cigarette. Sunshine had insisted he help her tie the dish to her back, declaring “it’s not that heavy.” She is working hard to quiet her grunts of exertion, and it amuses Charon to no end to see her struggle to seem stronger than she actually is.

It’s kind of endearing.

“Just lucky, I guess,” she says, craning her neck to look at the Washington Monument. “Kind of falling apart, isn’t it?” Charon snorts, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Isn’t everything?” They walk up to the terminals outside the monument’s barricade, and Sunshine types in the password Three Dog gave her. The Brotherhood patrols sneer at him, and one points his laser rifle at him.

“Get out of here, zombie,” he says. Charon growls, but Sunshine steps in front of him.

“He’s with me,” she says quietly. The patrol scoffs, but lowers his laser rifle. She motions for Charon to follow her, and they enter the Washington Monument. She opens the elevator, and tests the ground of it with her foot. They step in, and she nervously looks around at the holes in the elevator as it takes them all the way to the top of the monument. It jerks slight, and she grabs him out of impulse, shutting her eyes tightly. The elevator lurches to a stop, and the doors creak out. She opens her eyes, and jumps back away from him with a slight cough. He chuckles, rolling his eyes as they exit. 

He helps her untie the broadcast relay from her back. She bites her lip as she sets it down, looking out to the damaged one hanging over the D.C ruins.

“That’s pretty far out on the rafters,” she murmurs, tilting her head. Charon looks down at the rope in his hand that they used to secure the broadcast relay to her back. He begins tying it around her waist and arms. She lets out a startled yelp.

“It’s a harness,” he explains, tugging lightly on the end of it. “I won’t let you fall, smoothskin.” 

“Thank you,” she says, nodding. She turns toward the rafters and slowly climbs on one. She scoots over to damaged relay and leans her head down. Wind blows slightly, but it’s just enough to cause the rafter she’s sitting on to totter. Blood rushes to her head as she catches a glimpse of the ground. She gulps, and looks back over her shoulder at Charon. He smiles, hoping to reassure her. His smile looks more like a grimace. She smiles back anyway. She turns back to the relay and begins unscrewing it from the rafter. If she focuses on that, she can ignore the fact she’s hanging almost a mile above the ground with nothing but a rope held by a grumpy ghoul to steady her. When she removes the relay, she holds onto it and scoots slowly back to Charon. He wordlessly takes it from her and hands her the new one. With some difficult maneuvering, she makes it back over and begins installing the relay. A gust of strong wind blows and she yelps, hanging onto the rafter.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’ve got you,” Charon calls. She nods, and takes a deep breath to steady herself. She continues to work on the relay, and adjusts it once it is set to the rafter. She gives Charon a thumbs-up, and makes her way back to the top floor of the monument. She swings her leg over the ledge, and tries to brace her foot against the wall. It slips, and she bites back a scream. Charon is at the ledge in an instant, the rope wrapped around his wrist. He grabs her by the arms, and pulls her over the ledge.

“Thank you. Again,” she says against his chest.

“That’s some kind of luck you have, kid.”


	7. Wherever the Road May Lead

Chapter Seven: Wherever the Road May Lead

“Hey, all right! The Hero of the Wasteland returns!” Three Dog exclaims. Sunshine smiles despite herself.

“Oh, you big flatterer,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “I was happy to help fight the Good Fight.”

“Now GNR can be heard clear across the Capital Wasteland again. That’ll give Eden and those muties something to think about,” he declares, slapping his fist into his palm. “But before I get back to my calling, I bet you want to hear about your dad.” She nods, trying to slow the beating of her heart.

“I miss him very much,” she says quietly. Charon shoots her a questioning look, but she smiles at him.

“When your dad passed through here, he and I talked for a good, long time. He’s a real stand-up kind of guy. He mentioned some scientific mumbo-jumbo that didn’t really make sense to me, and mentioned something called ‘Project Purity.’  He also said something about going to visit a Doctor Li in Rivet City, and then he left in a hurry.”

“Where is Rivet City?” she asks.

“I know a way through Anacostia Metro Station. We can enter it underneath the Museum of History,” Charon says. Sunshine pales, but nods.

“Then Rivet City is where I’m headed,” she says. “Thank you, Three Dog. Take care of yourself.”

“Goodbye. Remember to keep us tuned in while you’re out there, and watch yourself,” he says warmly, patting her on the shoulder. She turns and heads for the exit, Charon and Dogmeat following close behind.

“So, the way is through a metro?” she asks unhappily. He nods.

“Yes. But I think we should stop at Underworld and resupply. I also think it would be a good idea to get your equipment repaired. It’s a long trip,” he says, eyeing her tattered clothing and weathered weapons. She blushes before self-consciously stroking the broken pistol on her hip.

“I didn’t even think of getting these repaired. I guess I’ve just been too focused on finding Dad,” she says sheepishly. They make their way to Underworld, and Sunshine waves to Willow as they walk inside the museum. Charon sees the other ghoul shake her head before waving back with a tiny smile creasing her face.

“Where will we get supplies?” she asks. “You know your way around Underworld better than I do.”

“Tulip sells various supplies. She’s, well. She’s a bit strange, but I think you’ll like her,” Charon says, and after a moment’s deliberation he adds, “I know this guy, Quinn. He’s pretty decent with repairs. I can get them done dirt cheap.” He shifts uncomfortably and she looks at him questioningly.

“What’s wrong, Charon?” she asks, tilting her head. He lets out a deep breath, and says quietly,

“Do you have anything else to wear? I’m going to need to take your armor to him.”

“What? I don’t see how this is a-oh. Oh, okay. Um,” she bounces lightly from foot to foot. “Yes. Yes I do. I’ll go get changed.” She walks to bathroom, and sees a couple of mattresses pushed up against the wall. She finds the one still intact stall in the room, and latches the door behind her. She peels the faded and worn leather of her armor from her skin, wincing at how ragged it is. It’s a wonder it protected her at all up until now. She rummages through her pack until she feels the familiar material of her vault jumpsuit beneath her fingers. She pulls it out, and holds it in front of her. She hasn’t worn it since she found better armor, and a sharp pain stabs through her chest. It’s in the condition it was when she had fled the vault, and it had been the only piece of clothing on her back. The yellow 101 is starting to peel away, and seeing the numbers makes her lonely for home. Shaking her head, she pushes those thoughts out of her mind and slips the jumpsuit on. It fits a little more loosely than it used to, but she finds it just as comfortable.

Exiting the bathroom, she finds Charon and Dogmeat waiting for her outside of room. She sees a ghoul behind a counter with various wares surrounding her.

“This is Tulip’s,” Charon says as she hands him her damaged equipment. “She should have whatever we need.”

“What do you think we should get?” she asks, looking inside eagerly. She can’t believe she missed the shop the first time she was here.

“Food, water, ammo. The basics. There’s no telling how long Quinn will take with these repairs. We might have to book a room at Carol’s,” he hints. He hopes she doesn’t notice that he’s trying to get her to stay off of her leg for a few more hours. The stimpaks Doc Barrow gave her healed the wound shut, but her muscles still haven’t fully recovered quite yet. He likes his new employer, and would prefer to keep her alive as long as possible. She pauses to consider the idea, and her brow furrows.

“Well, if it’s going to take that long,” she says. “Then sure. Why not?” He nods, and leaves to go find Quinn, leaving Sunshine alone outside of the shop. She tentatively walks in, and the ghoul cleaning the counter looks up.

“Oh, a visitor!” she says excitedly, running her hands through her ruined hair. “Well, hello! Hello, and welcome to Underworld Outfitters. It’s-It’s been so long since I’ve had a customer! I’m Tulip!” She beams at the flustered ghoul, and answers,

“I’m Sunshine! Pleased to meet you!” The ghoul seems at a loss for words, so she tries to make conversation. “So, could you tell me about Underworld? I’m fairly new.”

“Well, sure! There’s lots of old pamphlets and stuff. I’ve, I’ve pretty much read them all,” she says, embarrassed. It used to be part of the Museum of History. The exhibit that used to be here focused on what happened after death; hell, and what not. A lot of it was based on this old world book called Paradise Lost. It’s about a guy who goes to hell. Pretty interesting stuff.”

“Sounds like it!” Sunshine says eagerly.

“Really? Would you like a copy?” Tulip asks shyly. “We have a whole box full, and no one ever reads them.”

“I would love a copy,” she says, and Tulips rummages around before finding it. When she hands it to Sunshine, the vault-dweller’s hands begin to tremble. She’d always taken books for granted back in the vault, and out here they were nowhere to be found. She bites back a small sob, her hands rubbing the spine of the book reverently. She brings it up to her face and deeply breathes in the scent of it.

“Thank you,” she breathes, and Tulip gives her a small smile. Her eyes wander to stare behind her, and she says,

“Oh, hello.” A quiet cough causes Sunshine to turn around. Charon is standing there with another ghoul, whose arms are full holding her broken armor. She smiles, and holds out the book.

“Look, Charon,” she says. He gives her a small smile despite himself, and asks,

“Did you get any supplies?”

“Oh,” she says, blushing. “No. I’ll get on that.” She turns back to Tulip, and Charon shakes his head. The other ghoul, the one holding her armor, says to Charon,

“I’ll get this fixed up in no time.”

“Thanks, Quinn.” Quinn takes everything to the workbench in the corner of Tulip’s store. Charon waits patiently as Sunshine gathers up enough food, water and ammo for the two of them. Dogmeat sits at her feet, wagging his tail as Tulip reaches down to pet him every now and then. 

They exit Tulip’s shop and make their way to Carol’s Place. Sunshine hands him her new book.

“Make sure nothing happens to it?” she asks. He takes it from her gently.

“I’ll protect it as I would protect you,” he promises. She grins, and adjusts the purchases in her arms to keep them from overflowing. He opens the door to Carol’s Place for her.

“You are a gentleman and a scholar, good sir,” she teases.

“You flattering me, smoothskin?”

“You know what they say. Flattery will get you everywhere,” she sings. Carol watches the two of them with an amused expression. “Carol, do you still have a room open?”

“And a cot too, sweetie,” she says. Once they reach their room, she sets the purchases down gently on the floor and plops down on the cot before Charon can say anything. She laughs at the look on his face, and Dogmeat tries to get up on the cot with her. She hugs him to her chest, pulling him up to lay against her. He licks her face happily, and she laughs again.

It should be a crime to be this happy out here, he thinks.

“I’m not tired yet,” Sunshine says. She hops off of the cot, only wincing slightly. “I’m going to go look around. Don’t steal my cot.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, giving her a mock salute. He stands to follow her, and she grins. “We should probably get your leg checked by Doc Barrows.” She pouts.

“Am I going to have to get a shot?”

“Only if you don’t quit complaining,” he says, and is rewarded with a grin. She sticks her tongue out, and says,

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“You know, you almost make a convincing adult, kid.” She makes a face, and playfully shoves his arm.

“I’m nineteen. Jerk,” she says. He rolls his eyes.

“You’re so old.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m aging well,” she says, and he is surprised to find himself laughing.

“You’re a cheeky brat,” he says, ruffling her hair. “But I like you, kid.” She grins, and doesn’t even notice when they enter the Chop Shop. Doc Barrows looks up.

“Back again, smoothskin?” he asks, lowering his medical clipboard. She nods, and points her thumb at Charon.

“He says I have to get my leg checked out before we go to Rivet City,” she says. He motions for her to sit down so she does, rolling up the leg of her vault suit. Charon dutifully looks away. Doc Barrows inspects it, making disgruntled ‘humph’-ing noises.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Planning on it,” she says.

“You really should wait at least another day. All that walking around you did for Three Dog didn’t help any,” he says. She shakes her head.

“My equipment is going to be fixed tomorrow, and as soon as I have it, we’re going. I have to find my father. He went to go talk to a Doctor Li in Rivet City,” she says. Doc Barrows shakes his head.

“Well, I can’t change your mind. As long as you’re going to Rivet City anyway, you can take this holotape to Doctor Preston,” he says. Sunshine answers with a chipper “No sweat!”, and he hands her the holotape. “Rest up as much as you can, smoothskin.” She nods, and they leave the Chop Shop. She yawns, throwing her arms over her head to stretch, and Charon averts his eyes as her vault suit grows taut.

“So what now?” she asks. He shrugs, and follows her back to Carol’s Place. She races him, Dogmeat yipping happily at her heels, and he chuckles, following close behind. When they reach their rented room, he says,

“Thought Doc told you to rest up.” She waves her hand dismissively.

“Pffffft, I’m fine. Good as new,” she says, opening the stall door and collapsing on the cot. “Do you still have my book? I’d like to read before I turn in for the night.”

“Right here,” he says, handing it to her. He watches as she reads in contented silence, and rescues the book from slipping out of her grasp when she falls asleep.

* * *

 

They’ve been standing outside of the Museum of History for ten minutes. Sunshine looks down the steps that lead to the metro with her hands on her hips, as if challenging the chain-link fence to a brawl. She worries her bottom lip, and Charon gently nudges her forward.

“We can’t teleport there, kid,” he says.

“I know. Just,” she trails off, trying to stare down the gate to the metro again. She shakes her head, as if steeling herself. “You’re right. Let’s go.” She marches down the steps with a purpose in her step, but she dutifully waits for Charon and Dogmeat to catch up to her before walking in.

This metro doesn’t smell any better than the other ones she’s been through, and it’s twice as dark. She moves to turn on her Pip-Boy light, but Charon’s hand closes over hers to still it.

“Don’t do that,” he warns. “Any ferals in here will be attracted to that thing like bloatflies to a flame.” She pushes down the panic at his suggestion.

“But I can’t see,” she says in a tiny voice. He squeezes her hand before letting go of it.

“Just follow my footsteps. I won’t let anything happen to you, kid. Promise,” he says gruffly. She nods, and swallows. Her hand finds the back of his armor, and she holds on. Not being able to see allows her to hear better, but that isn’t as good of a thing as she thought it would be. She can hear the rats running around and squeaking, and the irradiated water dripping from the ceiling. Dogmeat growls at her heels, and Charon’s back is tense underneath her hand.

He’s as proficient with his shotgun as he promised he was. The ferals don’t attack him, but when they smell her they come running. She whimpers, and aims her gun in the direction she can hear them coming from. She’s sure she didn’t hit any, but Charon kills them before they have a chance to touch her. She wishes she could turn on her Pip-Boy light, or her radio to drown out the cries the ferals make when they catch her scent.

She has no idea how long they’ve been walking, just that her feet hurt and her shoulders sag from exhaustion. She tries not to lean against Charon and go to sleep, but his back is warm against her forehead. She keeps her feet moving out of sheer force of will. Everything around her becomes a blur. Charon hasn’t pulled out his shotgun in a while. It should be safe to rest, she thinks.

She only vaguely remembers when Charon lifts her up into his arms like a child, and hearing his gravelly voice say,

“Sorry, kid. Forgot you smoothskins don’t have very much stamina.”

“Where are we?” she asks sleepily.

“Maintenance room. There’s an old mattress here you can sleep on.”

“Can I turn on my radio?” she asks, like a child asking for a new toy. “I wanna hear Galaxy News.” After a pause, he answers,

“Sure. Just keep it quiet.” He gently sets her down on the mattress, and she fiddles with her Pip-Boy. The Adventures of Herbert Daring Dashwood begins to tinkle out softly from the speakers, but she falls asleep before the show really starts. Dogmeat curls up at the foot of her bed, and Charon takes a seat slouching against the wall, shotgun resting across his lap and eyes on the door.

Sunshine fidgets in her sleep, and he bites back a smile. Ridiculous kid.

 

* * *

 

They make it to Rivet City the next day, and Sunshine cranes her neck to look up at the boat.

“People live in that thing?” she asks in awe, eyeing the broken bow.

“Sure do. It’s one of the safest places in the wastes,” he says, waving to Lucky Harith, who is milling around the bottom of the scaffolding that leads to the entrance of the city. He stops to trade some of the salvage he and Sunshine had found while she and Dogmeat run off ahead.

“I see you’ve met the little lady,” Harith says, a twinkle in his eye as he watches her play with Dogmeat on the way up the scaffolding.

“She’s my new employer,” he explains. Harith whistles lowly and says,

“Good thing too. I met her right after she left that vault of hers. Poor thing had no idea where the hell she was, or how the world worked. Caught her trying to offer a raider some water,” he says, shaking her head. “All she had on her was a 10mm that might as well been paperweight for all the good it did her. Had absolutely no idea how to shoot. She get any better at that?”

“’Fraid not,” he answers, keeping an eye on how close she and the dog stray to the edge. Harith chuckles, and they finish their dealings before parting ways. Charon reaches the top of the scaffolding, and tries not to worry when he can’t see her.

“Kid?” he calls, and hears the answering bark of Dogmeat. He looks over to see her crouching by Carlos, Rivet City’s resident water beggar, and rummaging through her pack. He counts five purified waters surrounding the man’s feet. He walks up, and gently pulls Sunshine up.

“Save some for yourself, kid,” he says, and she smiles brightly.

“I’m not hurting any. I have a robot at home that can make it!”

“Regardless,” he says, and pulls her away toward the city, leaving Carlos’ cries of how she saved his life behind. She looks across the way, and turns slightly pale when she sees the drop to the Potomac river.

“How do we get across?” she asks. He points to the intercom, and she presses the button. “Hi. I’d like to get into the city, please.”

“Lowering the bridge,” a voice crackles in response, and the scaffolding begins to shake. Sunshine yelps, and losing her balance, falls down. She watches as the bridge swings out to connect the boat to the scaffolding. Charon holds out his hand for her to take, and pulls her up. They walk across the bridge, and she stays close to him. A scowling security guard stops them at the door.

“Hold it right there,” he says, and Charon eyes the plasma rifle he aims at them. “State your business in Rivet City.”

“I’m looking for my father,” she answers.

“Oh yeah? Who is your father? If he lives on this boat, I might know him.”

“He’s lived in a vault his whole life. I’m not sure if you’d know him,” she says. The man scoffs.

“Oh yeah? And I’m a fairy princess. You keep up this smart-ass attitude, and you’re going to be floating face down in the river,” the man threatens. Charon bristles.

“Hey,” he says, and the man turns his rifle on him.

“What?” the guard demands.

“Don’t talk to her that way.”

“And who are you to stop me?”

“Oh, Christ,” she says, exasperated. “Sir. My father came here to see Doctor Li. I want to talk to her. Please let us in to Rivet City. We won’t cause any trouble,” she says, nudging Charon. “Pinky swear.” He eyes her for a long, hard moment before lowering his gun.

“Sorry,” he says gruffly. “We’ve had all sorts of trouble around here lately.”

“No problem, Officer…?” she says easily.

“Harkness. Doctor Li is in the science lab near the back of the ship,” he says. She nods, thanking him before moving to go inside. Harkness and Charon share a hard look before the ghoul follows his employer into the boat. She grabs his arm, and he thinks she is going to reprimand him. She smiles shyly, and he can see a hint of a blush creeping across her cheeks.

“Thanks for sticking up for me,” she says, and his heart constricts in a way he will never cease to not understand.


End file.
